


Prolong The Night

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting hit gives them both a charge. Short fic for after the end of Volume 2, episode 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prolong The Night

The bridge was still crumbling.

Pieces of concrete fell like rain, granules of grey casting a fog where frozen mist had yet to dissipate from the Dust cast during the fight. Ice melted with every step Yang took, steam flaring from beneath the thick soles of her boots. Blake’s heart struck the inside of her chest like a hammer, heavy and loud, drowning out the sound of sirens overhead but not the hiss of sparks jumping to Ember Celica from Yang’s skin, tendons and muscle flexed with exertion, slick with the salt of sweat. She could practically taste it, wanted to run her tongue along sculpted shoulders and tan thighs that could crush someone between them.

“Blake.” That low growl, the rasp that only tore through Yang’s throat when adrenaline overwhelmed her blood. Fights like this were when laughter and embarrassment fled, replaced by confidence and a lust that could swallow them, a fire that wouldn’t be quenched until they were both sore and trembling. “Hit me.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. More than one of their sparring sessions had gotten out of hand when Blake got in a good blow between Yang’s surprisingly versatile guard, ending up pinned beneath the blonde until there was nothing on her lips but pleas for mercy in between ragged moans and the the whimpers she couldn’t stifle, even with one calloused hand held over her mouth, letting her bite and thrash to no avail. For once in her life, being with a partner felt safe, equal, and it didn’t hurt that they were very, very compatible.

The second she was in range, Blake twisted into a right hook, aiming for her jaw; the soft center of Yang’s cheek was one of the few places that had any give, save for a handful of cheap shots, and whoever would dare to hit her partner in the chest deserved the hell that would come for them afterwards. An instant before Blake’s knuckles made contact, Yang countered, catching her fist and giving it a firm squeeze. She felt the bones grind together, but with the tension of the fight lighting up their veins, a bit of pain was just give and take; they could hold hands on the way back to Beacon later.

“You got more than that left in you.” Red bled through purple, hair flowing like liquid gold; Yang was a sunburst, almost too bright to look at. “Come on, babe.”

A hard yank backward freed her arm and Blake feinted with an elbow to the ribs, telegraphing the move just enough to draw Yang’s attention down. That knock ‘em dead stare shifted and she snapped into a sucker punch, colliding with that perfect, smiling mouth. Blood rose from a split lip, thick drops of crimson Blake barely had the time to see before her back met the flat side of a column, Yang’s arm pressing across her throat with the weight of an iron bar. When one thigh slotted between both of hers, she moaned and bucked her hips, desperate for the friction.

“Please.” Both of Blake’s wrists were trapped up over her head, denying any movement but the rough rhythm, heat building every time she pushed down, right near the top of Yang’s garter. Black for her, emblazoned with the gold they shared, and that damned swathe of violet fabric draping down and daring everyone to look.

Another kiss took her breath away, sweet despite the taste of copper filling Yang’s mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words came out closer to a whine; worked up like this, Yang was so _strong_ , enough to bring a building down on top of them and then hurl it down the street at someone else.

“This is going to hurt like hell tomorrow.” Yang’s laugh was back, loud and boisterous as a battle song.

“Yeah.” Blake gasped; so close, so fucking  _close_. “But I want it to.”

She came with her partner’s name on her tongue, sounding out the syllables like Yang had taught her another night when they were alone. With lungs full of fire and pleasure making her shake, Blake stole another kiss, not waiting to recover before dropping to both knees, letting the asphalt sting and bruise as she pressed her mouth to the inside of one thigh and began to work her way up.


End file.
